270 A DAY ON A NORFOLK MERE 



Meanwhile, the gamekeeper is making his way 

 towards us, as we are warned by the thunderous 

 rising from their siesta of the thirty mallards, who 

 fly quacking high over our heads, without a single 

 female among them. In his smart velvet coat, and 

 his waistcoat of the most brilliant scarlet, the game- 

 keeper looks almost as gorgeous as the birds over 

 whom he watches, and a few words with him show 

 that he is the " right man in the right place"; in 

 other words, that he is a naturalist as well as game- 

 keeper, taking a keen interest in all the sights and 

 sounds around him, bent on saving life as well as 

 taking it, and not regarding indiscriminately, as 

 vermin to be nailed to his ghastly gibbet, all those 

 noble birds of prey which are the natural denizens 

 of a wild country, which add so much to its charm, 

 and which, as even the most stolid of game- 

 preservers are now beginning to discover, serve 

 a useful purpose in Nature, far outweighing the 

 loss, in hard times, of a few head of game. So 

 backward is the season, he tells us, that we are 

 too early, by a week or fortnight, for the great 

 majority of the nests of the waterfowl. He has, 

 however, while collecting pheasants' eggs, come 

 across a few which he may be able to find again 

 for us, and, in any case, if we continue our search 



